


In un mondo senza di te

by JuliaBaggins



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ermal is very confused, Heavy Angst, M/M, Not Quite Unrequited Love, There's a witch and a curse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:02:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18511654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaBaggins/pseuds/JuliaBaggins
Summary: Ermal is in love with Fabrizio, which he doesn't tell him.Ermal is not interested in the beautiful woman hitting at him in the bar, which he will regret.And one day, Ermal wakes up, and the world isn't quite as it used to be.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Greetings from the FlixBus somewhere in the Austrian Alps 😁
> 
> This story is another shower idea, and I'm happy with the concept, it's quite cool imo 😊

Ermal woke up to the sound of the radio coming to life at 8am, and sighed. For once, not because the music choice was terrible - he actually did like this song - it rather was because he felt as if he hadn't slept more than 3 hours, and if he was honest with himself, this probably was true. Or even a little too highly estimated. With eyes shut tight in annoyance, he fumbled for the radio's little button, well aware that it would mercilessly disturb him again in 15 minutes, and then rolled around in his bed, pulling the blanket over his head. And if there was a God of sleep, he was a cruel being, because now, Ermal did fall asleep immediately, no thoughts, no restlessness, no dreams bothering him, while last night, though he had gone to bed at a reasonable time, one that should promise the opportunity of a good night's rest, he hadn't been granted that.

And so, when he radio started playing the second time, Ermal was slightly more disoriented, and, once he realized that he'd now _really_ have to get up, in an even worse mood. He peeled himself out of his blanket, mournfully glancing back at it as if the soft feathers were a still sleeping lover he'd have to leave behind, and walked into the bathroom on bare feet, for a quick shower, a brushing of his teeth, and a not so quick taming of his curls. Once he deemed himself presentable in the mirror, he got back to the bedroom, decided on an outfit - jeans, a simple red shirt - and sat down at his bed again, snatching his phone from his nightstand.

He turned the phone on, and immediately, Ermal's mood was lifted, as it always was when his eyes spotted this certain picture - which of course was the exact reason why he had decided on it as his lockscreen. Sabina and Rinald were sitting at their mom's kitchen table, laughing about a joke the latter had told, their smiles directed at each other as well as their eyes, filled with mischief, and Ermal doubted they'd even noticed that he'd taken a photo of them in this moment. It was one of his favourite pictures of his siblings, and that was a tight snatch, because Ermal loved all of them dearly. After a moment of smiling at those two, he made it to his home screen, and checked his messages. There were a few new at WhatsApp; a text from Marco, to check in about their later recording, as well as one from a girl at Mescal about the same topic, an old school friend said hi, Sabina had sent some incredibly cute kid pics in their family group chat, and then, after everything else was answered, Ermal clicked on the name on top of the list, indicating that Fabrizio probably hadn't been awake for much longer than him.

His friend had sent him a simple text, wishing him a good morning and a nice day, as he did every day, and just as it always did, it made Ermal smile. Especially since today, the words were accompanied by a little sun emoji, something that a brain that wasn't Fabrizio Mobrici's could still understand when glancing outside of the window and spotting the nice weather - with a random tractor, or palm-tree, or camel, Ermal sometimes did have problems. But today, he did understand, and while the words as well as the little sun made him smile, they at the same time felt like someone had squeezed his heart too tight for a moment. So no change today, once again. Ermal exhaled, in what he would have liked to believe was annoyance, and thought back to a talk with Andrea he had two weeks prior.

They had met so Andrea could show Ermal his new song, which had been a pleasure to hear, and then, a glass of wine to celebrate turned into a bottle, and then a second, and at some point, Ermal had been leaning against Andrea, his head on his friend's shoulder, and told him how utterly gone for Fabrizio he was. Andrea's silence while Ermal stumbled those words out had been a sign of how important this was, as he usually couldn't quite always resist interrupting other people when something interesting came to his mind, but in this case, he waited until Ermal had finished. Then, pulled him into a hug, and while there must have been a myriad of questions dancing around in Andrea's head, he only asked one. And that was what Ermal intended to do, about his crush, if it even was this - he had had a bunch of crushes in his life, and he had been in love, a few times, and felt himself quite competent to judge the difference. Even though in this case, he didn't want to. About Andrea's question, he only had thought for a second, and then explained that he would just wait until his crush, or what he wished to be one, would go away. And for the rest of the night, Ermal had tried his best to ignore the compassion in Andrea's eyes, the disbelief in his plan, the pity, and instead focus on the merciful forgetfulness to be found in the deep red dephts of his wine glass. 

This had been nearly 14 days ago, and ever since then, since admitting it out loud had made the whole situation somehow even more real than it already had been in Ermal's tumultuous little heart, he woke up every day, wondering if it finally would be the one on which he would stop being in love with Fabrizio. Sometimes, there wasn't even a second of hope for this cause, when he had dreamt of the two of them, holding hands for example, once or twice even kissing; and on some days, it needed until Fabrizio's adorable good morning texts for the realization to kick in, that all his thoughts in the morning's shadows before had been gentle lies he told himself. That he still loved Fabrizio just as much as he had done the previous day, and probably would still do so on the next. 

Ermal's fingers hovered over the keyboard, and he wondered for a split second what would happen if he just didn't answer. Not now, not ever. Would Fabrizio get worried? Yes, yes he would, Ermal had no doubt, as well as he was convinced that his friend would be eager to find out what was wrong with him. And especially that was the problem, in Ermal's eyes - there indeed was something wrong with him, and that was the fact that he had fallen in love with Fabrizio; not because he was a man, with that possibility, Ermal had made peace years ago already, even if it hadn't become relevant until recently, no, the problem was that Fabrizio was his _friend_. His close friend, who laughed too loud and played with his curls too gently and who hugged him too tight, whose eyes shone brighter than the lights of his deeply beloved city that Ermal sometimes sang about, and whose brave heart at times seemed to beat in sync with Ermal's. 

But the younger man knew that this was just an illusion, or an expression of their friendship; a friendship that would burn to the ground and leave his heart in shambles of ashes if Ermal ever told Fabrizio how he felt about him. How much it killed him whenever Fabrizio smiled a little longer at a radio host than it would have strictly been necessary to be polite, how he wished Fabrizio's fleeting kisses at his neck would last, wouldn't only be there during enthusiastic hugs after a long time without seeing each other - Ermal felt as if all of this made him a horrible friend, nearly as if he was betraying Fabrizio somehow, his trust, and yet, he couldn't change it. Couldn't change how in love he was, and at the same time, how he would rather hide this for as long as it took, no matter how much his heart broke, than to lose Fabrizio completely. 

In the end, Ermal wished Fabrizio a good morning too, with a smiling cat emoji, and then quickly made himself a coffee; some caffeine that hopefully would help to clear up some of the mess in his brain. And it did, or at least granted him more awakeness he could use to focus his thoughts; to forbid them to wander in a certain direction, even as he saw an old man at the street, a hat that Fabrizio certainly would love on top of his nearly white fluffy hair. Ermal wasn't thinking about how good his friend would still look in this age, with his hair fully grey and wrinkles around his smile, he wasn't thinking about how Fabrizio deserved it to always have a reason to smile as happily as the gentleman with the fancy hat, and he especially wasn't thinking about how much he wished to still he a part of the other man's life once he was that old. No, Ermal wasn't thinking about any of this, he was exclusively focusing on the rhythm of his steps and feeling of his teeth biting into his lips. And the lies he told himself. 

 

The day passed quickly, wrapped up in excitement about new music and the joy of old friends' company, and after a relaxed jam session following the official recording part, Ermal asked his friends if they wanted to still grab some dinner together. And for once, Ermal was nearly glad that Andrea wasn't with them, because when he ended up with Marco and Dino in a little pizzeria in the end, they could just laugh together, and he didn't feel as if someone could read into the dephts of his cracked heart. Though maybe, Ermal would have just needed to look a little closer, at how Dino let him have all the little waffles that came with the ice cream they shared, or at the look that his two friends exchanged when the woman sitting at the neighbor table started talking in a Roman accent, and Ermal couldn't help but look up at that, his heart beating too fast for no reason, none at all. 

Once they had paid their bills, Marco invited Ermal to join him and Andrea for a few drinks in the following evening, to which he of course agreed, and after they had taken Dino to the train station, his smile speaking of the joy he felt about seeing his family again soon, about coming home after what felt as if it had been way too long, no matter if only a few days had passed, Marco and Ermal said goodnight to each other too. The latter walked a longer way home than he would have needed; the spring air was warm, nearly smelling like summer already, his legs had missed being used during the day in the studio, and the fresh air hopefully would help him to find sleep not too late. He nearly had reached his neighborhood, when something caught Ermal's eye - a little jewelry store at a corner, one that he was pretty sure hadn't been there the last time he had passed here, and even though it was closed already, Ermal could steal a glance at the shiny things they had on sale. Everything was pretty, in a rather unique way, and when his eyes caught on a ring made of silver that seemed to resemble a snake, little bright stones making up its scales, Ermal promised himself to come back here at a more convenient time. 

 

And so he did, in the next day already - after a rather lazy morning filled with songwriting and mindlessly drawing patterns onto the edges of his pages, Ermal had left his flat in the afternoon, and this had had nothing to do _at all_ with the fact that after playing this and that the whole day, the radio now had announced to introduce Fabrizio's new single. No, it was just a convenient time to go out, if he still wanted to have a little time to himself before meeting with his friends, nothing else. Ermal walked through one of his favourite parks, the rich smell of spring flowers mixing with his cigarette's, and when he reached the jewelry store, he was delighted to see it open. Inside, a young man welcomed him, blond curls and too large glasses making him look as if puberty still was lurking somewhere in his distant future, and once Ermal had made a round through the store, he pointed at the ring he already had liked the previous night. The young man got him his size, and once Ermal saw the ring at his finger, he knew that he not only wanted, but _needed_ this one; it just suited him too nicely to be left here, a distant regret of a shopping decision he should have made differently. 

He paid by credit card, a certain degree of fame not having changed that he never carried around large amounts of cash, and after a few enthusiastic words from the young man, about how his grandfather made all the jewelry they sold by hand, and how amazing the quality should be, Ermal left the store, with a smile on his face and a new ring at his finger. Being the first one in the bar they had agreed on to meet, Ermal ordered drinks for Marco, Andrea and himself, his friends smiling gratefully when they arrived to their favourite beverages already waiting for them, and after a quick toast, to old friends and new reasons to smile, Andrea started to tell them about the possibility of him doing a little summer tour in the brightest colours. He was one of those people whose excitement was contagious, but even if it hadn't been, Ermal and Marco still would have been as thrilled as they were, warmly smiling at their friend and exchanging a look nearly like proud parents would. 

Andrea asked Marco if he'd maybe have time to make a visit at the opening concert of this tour, to which Marco laughed and hugged his friend, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His friends seemed to only have eyes for each other in that moment, an interesting observation that Ermal promised himself to think about more at a later time, and he slid out of his seat, to get them some new drinks. The bar was crowded and the one bar keeper working there was deeply engaged in a discussion with two Spanish dudes who seemingly were unhappy with the way their drinks had turned out, so Ermal leaned against the bar with a sigh, and prepared to wait for quite some time. His thoughts drifted away, like flower petals on a summer breeze, going here and there, but in the end, always ending up on the same topic. And just when Ermal realized that he had been starred humming one of Fabrizio's new songs under his breath, he got interrupted. 

 

Ermal felt fingers suddenly grabbing his shoulder, and though their touch was light, he couldn't suppress a flinch, and shook the hand off before turning around with anger shining from the dephts of his dark eyes. In front of him, a woman stood, long blonde curls, a tight purple dress, and both a body and a face that would open her the doors of every modeling agency in the world. A smirk was playing around her full lips, all self confident, and she looked at Ermal from underneath full lashes, her eyes leaving his to slowly look his body down and up again, hungry, to get caught on his lips. If Ermal ever had seen shameless flirting in his life, it was this, and when she lightly bit her own lip while looking into his eyes again, he saw his suspicion confirmed. She leaned closer, her pale fingers brushing Ermal's own that grabbed the counter, and when she was close enough that he could smell her too sweet perfume, she whispered in a honey sweet voice. 

"Hello you." 

"Good evening", Ermal replied, hoping his tone of voice would be enough to tell her that he wasn't interested. 

But when she took another tiny step closer, positioning her boobs right in the line of Ermal's vision, who had tried to avoid looking into her eyes, he saw that this would need a little more clearness. Before he could say anything else though, she beat him to it, and where her eyes had seemed cold before, calculating, a tigress on the hunt, they now shone with warmth. And for a second, Ermal wondered if he had lost count of what he had been drinking, because he could have sworn that her eyes had been blue, but now, they innocently blinked at him in a dark brown. 

"You seem a little lonely, my friend", and her voice sounded deeper than before, less suggestive and way more pleasant. 

"I'm not", Ermal replied, after clearing his throat, "Just getting drinks for me and my friends. It's been a pleasure to meet you", and he tried to turn away from her. 

"Oh, but you haven't even told me your name, Mister", and she appeared in front of Ermal again, seemingly having walked around him in record speed to reach the other side of the bar. 

Ermal sighed, and shook his head, something about this whole conversation was giving him a headache. Maybe it was the unwanted attention, or just too many drinks before, he didn't know, but what he knew for sure was that her attention was exactly that - unwanted. The woman might look like a sight that would have caused his 25 year old self to pass out, but today, he just was not interested, and he couldn't even lie to himself that he would be. Couldn't pretend, not even for one night in the arms of the most beautiful woman. Because it weren't _her_ arms he wished to feel around him, not her skin on his, not her pale.. and now, Ermal truly started to doubt his own sanity, because he was so sure that the tattooed flowers on her arms hadn't been there just a minute ago, just like he'd have called her arms pale rather than sun-kissed as they were. 

"Please excuse me", Ermal whispered, stumbling through the crowd of people and towards the toilets, where he heavily placed his hands on the sink and then, after a few deep breaths, splashed some cold water into his face. 

He would just tell Andrea and Marco that he needed a night of early sleep, and then he'd do exactly this, get caught up in a sleep that hopefully would be dreamless and heal him of the pain in his head, and this subconscious feeling that something was somehow _off_ about this evening. Just when Ermal had dried his hands and was about to open the door, it swung in his direction, nearly hitting him in the nose, and shortly after, his eyes caught on filigrane black high heels. Oh no. He looked up, to see those same brown eyes in a face nearly too perfect to bear, and when she closed the door behind herself, Ermal subsonciously took a step back, until his ass touched one of the sinks. 

"I think you've taken the wrong door", Ermal said, even though her smirk told him that she had done anything but. 

"No. I think you've made the wrong decision when you left me there standing at the bar. But I'm willing to give you a second chance. To make the best choice of your life." 

"I'm sorry, you're beautiful and certainly a very nice woman, and many people would be lucky to have caught your eye. I just fear that I personally am not interested. At all", and during the last words, Ermal's carefully constructed politeness escaped his voice. 

Ermal shivered in his colourful shirt, it was as if the temperature in the bathroom had just dropped ten degrees, and when he looked into the woman's eyes again, their blue colour seemed even colder than the air causing his skin to raise in goosebumps.

"Well", and there was nothing pleasant about her voice anymore, "I'll take this as a No then. I had hoped you to be smarter than that, Ermal, to realize how your heart is too precious to be wrapped up as a gift to someone who doesn't want it. But seemingly, you aren't. I'll leave you then. And I promise you that you'll remember this evening, and that you'll regret this. Ciao."

And before she left the bathroom again, her hand grabbed Ermal's, her thumb brushing over his new ring. It was just a fleeting moment, and then she was gone, leaving Ermal alone in the bathroom with an unpleasant tingling in his neck. He quickly made it back to their table, Andrea's and Marco's questions about what had taken him so long and where their drinks might be dying on their tongues as soon as they saw their friend's expression, and after he had explained in short words what had happened, they decided to call it a night. Ermal tightly hugged his friends goodbye, promising to call during the week, and once his back hit his mattress at home, he took a deep breath. This somehow had been a weird evening, but tomorrow, everything would look better. It certainly would.

 

And indeed, in the next morning, Ermal felt a lot better, his head didn't hurt anymore, and Fabrizio's good morning text, accompanied by a heart-eyed cat today, made him smile. He stayed in bed a little longer, and then, after a late breakfast, got dressed for an interview at a little radio station - tight pants, a wildly patterned shirt, sunglasses and, after he nearly had forgotten about it laying next to the sink in the bathroom, his new ring. The smile that wanted to break out on Ermal's face about this new treasure quickly slipped though, because he noticed that one of the little stones decorating the fragile snake was missing, leaving behind just a tiny dark hole. Well, that sucked, and with a bitter laugh just for himself, he remembered the young man bragging about the jewelry's quality. So much for that topic.

During the week, Ermal was busy with a variety of different things, his mind usually too caught up to even think about his hopeless feelings much, but there was one thing that didn't escape his attention, because it angered him. The ring. The ring, that might not have been expensive measured on the ridiculous amount of money he earned nowadays, but for which his mother would have needed to work a whole week for 12 hours each day when he had been a child, tiredness screaming from her eyes no matter how warmly she smiled; the ring that he had been promised to be a piece of amazing craftsmanship, and that still kept losing the little stones. One by one, and had Ermal been a person to believe in magic, he might have seen the pattern there, how the ring seemed to loose one stone each day. Nearly as if it was having a mind of its own. A plan. As if it was counting down to something.

 

On the following Saturday, Ermal slept in, nearly til lunch time, the week having left him exhausted, and when he finally blinked his eyes open, in his own time and without the annoying company of an alarm clock, he decided to just stay in bed a while longer. Read the news still wrapped up in his blanket, maybe watch something on Netflix, or just do nothing. He grabbed his phone from the floor, opened his text messages, and frowned. Because there was none from Fabrizio. No good morning text, no ridiculous emoji, no nothing. And there had to be a very logical explanation for that, one that wouldn't give any reason to worry, and yet, his heart couldn't help but do exactly that. Fabrizio usually woke up earlier than him, after also going to bed earlier, his age a constant source of teasing there, and Ermal wondered if he had forgotten about something. Maybe Fabrizio did have a concert in the previous evening, so he'd need to catch up with some sleep, or a friend had celebrated their birthday? In these cases, Ermal would have forgotten to wish him good luck, or a lot of fun, or both, which he'd have regretted, since they always did that, especially before each other's concerts (and also before those together, but with arms around each other instead of screens between them), but he knew that Fabrizio wouldn't be upset with him. 

To check what his friend might have been up to, Ermal opened Instagram, and typed in an F in the search. And waited. And frowned again, his eyebrows vanishing behind fluffy curls, causing them to be even less visible than usual. Fabrizio's page didn't turn up in his suggestions, and this was a very weird thing, because it might happen that Ermal looked at this rather often. But now, there was nothing, so he typed in his friend's whole name, and then sat up in his bed, tightly gripping his phone. Because there were no results. His phone told him that Fabrizio's Instagram page wouldn't exist, and nothing made sense. Could this be a technical error? Certainly Fabri hadn't had deleted his page, had he? No, there would need to be a reason for that, a rather serious one, one that he would have told Ermal about - because that's what friends do, isn't it? Yes, Ermal told himself, Fabrizio would have told him, and there had to be something else going on here. And he didn't want to call his friend all panicked, probably waking him from his well-deserved sleep, but at the same time, Ermal felt the need to call someone, to share his worries, to be reassured. 

Marco picked up after the second ring, the usual grumpiness in his voice causing Ermal to smile despite the weird feeling somewhere in his stomach.

"Ermal? Are you calling me again to complain about the jewelry you bought?", he asked, the humour not completely missing from his voice, and Ermal was so surprised about the topic that he went with it. 

"No, it's not that." 

"So all stones fine and tight in that pretty ring of yours?" 

Ermal's eyes involuntarily flickered towards his night table, where he had taken off the ring last night, nearly having forgotten it at his finger the previous evening, and he frowned. Because he noticed that there wasn't a single sparkly stone left in the snake, even though he was sure that yesterday, there at least had been one still there, shining like an eye of the little snake. 

"No, but Marco, this is not the point. Listen. I know this probably is stupid, which is why I'm calling _you_ , to tell me it's nothing. Thing is, somehow I can't look at Fabrizio's Instagram page anymore, and not even as if he'd have blocked me, but completely deleted it, and he hasn't texted me a good morning, and, I don't know, just tell me I'm overreacting and everything is fine?"

"Fabrizio?", Marco asked, and Ermal groaned. As if his friend wouldn't know that he'd only get this ridiculous about one person. 

"Yes, Fabrizio, my Bizio, he usually _always_ texts me a good morning, and today, he didnt." 

"Ermal, I fear I don't know whom you are talking about", and Ermal groaned, since this was not the time for teasing, or for jokes. 

"Jesus, Marco, you know exactly whom I'm talking about! Fabrizio Moro, one of Italy's grandest singers, my best friend-" 

"Fabrizio Moro? I've never heard that name in my life."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare, there's quite some angst here 😊
> 
> And I'd love to hear your opinion on the chapter ❤️

Ermal was speechless. For a minute, maybe two, until he realized that Marco was calling his name over the phone.

“-mal? Ermal, are you still there? Are you okay? You’re worrying me a bit there, my friend.”

“Yes”, Ermal whispered, only answering the first question. And just when he hoped that Marco would stop with whatever this was, would stop playing stupid or being part of a rather cruel joke, his friend made it worse.

“What’s up with you and this Fabrizio?”, said in a voice as if he’d ask about Ermal and someone working in his favourite bakery.

“Please”, Ermal whispered, “Whatever this is, stop it. Just tell me that you know Fabri, and, what even would be better, where he is, what’s going on.”

Marco’s sigh was to be heard over the line, followed by a few deliberately calm breaths.

“Listen. I don’t know a Fabrizio, I really don’t. But if it’s upsetting you that much, I’ll of course help you to look for him. Okay? How about we meet later?”

“Are you okay, Marco?”

“Sorry?”

“Did you, I don’t know, hit your head somewhere? Do you have problems remembering other things?”

“No? Ermal, seriously, what is going on?”

“I don’t know that. But I’ll try to find out”, and Ermal’s thoughts already were drifting away from the conversation, towards possible ways to find answers to whatever was going wrong here.

“Please call me again once you know more, about whatever is wrong? And once you found your Fabrizio?”, Marco pleaded, worry in his voice.

“I will, sure. I’ll first call Roberto, and then-“

“Oh, he still has my jacket I think, from when we didn’t notice we had switched them at the rehearsal, could you remind him of that? I think my key for Carlotta’s flat should be in the pocket, I’d like to have it back.”

“I can remind him if I hear from him, but I actually meant the other one, Maccaroni.”

“First you’ve got a friend I’ve never heard of and now you’re suddenly talking to pasta? Are you sure you’re alright? Should I call someone, or, I don’t know, take you to a doctor?”

Ermal ignored Marco’s words.

“You also don’t know who Roberto Maccaroni is?”

“No, I don’t. I mean, maybe, the name rings a very distant bell – does he make music too? But I don’t know, I can’t remember ever meeting the dude.”

“Okay. Bye Marco”, and before there could be more questions, more unsatisfying answers, more utter confusion, Ermal ended the call.

 

 

Ermal walked a few steps, until he stood in front of his window. The street outside was busy, cars honking at each other, a mother with three children hurrying along the sidewalk, and everything seemed utterly _normal_. While in reality, it wasn’t. If Marco just had a bad day, maybe after one too many drinks before bed, it still would be weird if he suddenly couldn’t remember his friends anymore, but it might be an explanation, even if a weak one. But not even a too early morning with a killer headache after a drunk night could be a possible explanation for Fabrizio’s vanished Instagram.

The hope that there was an explanation for all of this was still there, even if it was melting like gelato in the last days of June, and Ermal still didn’t want to call Fabrizio all panicked. Instead, he hoped that Roberto might clear up some things - during the phone call with Marco, he had remembered Fabrizio mentioning that he planned to visit his friend, and Ermal didn’t know when exactly he had been talking about, but maybe it was now? Maybe the two of them were just making some music together, a guitar and a beer at Roberto’s front porch, and Fabrizio just had.. turned off his Instagram for a relaxed weekend. Ermal wasn’t aware that this was possible, but who knew, maybe it was.

So he’d call Roberto, and either Fabri would be right there, or the man at least would know something. Yes, that would help. Ermal scrolled quickly through his contacts, and then frowned, deeply. There were three Robertos listed in his contacts list: Roberto Pace, one from his music label, and an artist friend of his brother, to whom Rinald usually referred to as Robbie. But no Roberto Maccaroni.

“Oh what the actual fuck”, Ermal swore under his breath, not even noticing how he slipped into Albanian.

He tried it with the search, but didn’t get lucky with that either – no results for _Maccaroni_ , and only three for _Roberto_. Had he not loved them so much, he could have ripped out his own curls out of sheer frustration.

 

 

“Fine, then guess I can’t help it”, and Ermal scrolled up through the letters, about to call Fabrizio himself.

Avoiding this would have been nice, he didn’t want his friend to hear him in such a state, or to get worried, but by now, Ermal just needed to hear his voice. To be sure that he wasn’t losing his mind. To be reassured that Fabrizio was alright, and that the anxiety growing in his heart was only a result of a broken phone and a drunk friend, or something equally unthreatening.

Ermal sat down at his bed, and then, the blink of an eye later, he threw his phone into his pillows; hard enough that it would have broken, had it been met by anything than soft feathers. After throwing the traitorous device away, Ermal buried his face in his hands, and tried to take a few deep breaths.

Which wasn’t working too well, after his phone’s contacts list had presented him with Federico, Fiorella, Francesca, several Francescos, but not a single Fabrizio. No Fabri to be spotted, also nothing under a B, and by now, Ermal seriously doubted his own sanity.

“This can’t be”, he whispered, utter confusion turning his mind into one big mess.

Maybe this was just a bad dream, one that he could wake up from? For a moment, Ermal contemplated an ice-cold shower, but then, suddenly, a memory hit him. And for the first time since this whole terribleness had started, he smiled.

 

 

It had been a few months ago, when Ermal had been in Rome for an interview, and one evening, Fabrizio had invited him and a few friends over to his house. And after a barbecue, they had ended up around the cozy little fire in the garden, the taste of beer and the laughter of multiple voices accompanying the warm summer night. Ermal couldn’t remember who first had suggested the game, maybe it had been Claudio, but however, it had happened - they started playing a memory game, one that most of them had last played in school times. Everyone had to repeat the items that the man before him had named, and then add one, and the more beer was consumed, the more fun it got.

While Fabrizio’s list at some point turned into “Something to eat, and, damn, a.. clothes?” (whereas the items he still would have needed to name were a basedrum and a sports newspaper), Ermal turned out to be rather good at this game, impressing the others. And so, someone had suggested that to test how good his short-term memory was, he should try to remember a random number. A phone number. _Roberto’s_ phone number!

Ermal had gotten it right after hearing it just three times, there had been drunken cheers (and a hug from Fabrizio, but he couldn’t get lost in the memory of that now), and Ermal had of course told no one that Roberto’s number had been an easy one to remember, because.. That was the question. It had reminded him of something, some detail had made it easy to remember it, a house number or a special dat- No! A year! Ermal’s smile appeared again, the same small but hopeful one that had been there when he first realized that he might remember Roberto’s number, even if his phone had deleted it for whatever mysterious reason.

His grandma’s birth year had been in the middle of the number, and once Ermal remembered this, the rest came back to him as well. And so, he typed the number into his phone, being around 78% sure that it actually was Roberto’s. But on this weird day, that percentage seemed close to perfect.

 

 

"Who's there?", a sleepy man answered after the third ring, and once Ermal heard Roberto’s warm and familiar voice, something told him that now, everything was going to be alright.

"Roberto? Oh I'm so glad you're picking up, it's Ermal-"

"Ermal? Which Ermal?", and there seemed to be honest confusion in Roberto’s voice. Just like earlier in Marco’s. Ermal could have screamed out of frustration.

"Ermal Meta? How many fucking Ermals do you know??"

"Woa, calm down dude, it's okay. I know you're quite a big number in the business at the moment, I was just surprised you'd call me, as we've never really talked to each other."

"What", a voiceless exhale left Ermal’s trembling lips.

"Hey, you okay there?"

"What, do you mean we don't know each other??"

"Well, I know your songs, of course I do, and they're great, but I meant that we don't know each other in person."

"This is not funny", Ermal whispered, his voice suddenly close to breaking.

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to upset you, I just don't really know what you want? Can I help you somehow?", and the worst thing was how _genuine_ Roberto sounded.

"I don't know what this is about or why you all would think this is funny, but I really just want to know that Fabrizio is alright."

"Fabrizio?"

"Yes. Please just tell me that he's at your house and it’s been a long evening where he got annoyed at social media and that he’s still sound asleep."

"He's not."

 _"What"_ , and with that word, Ermal felt the little hope he had gathered leaving his body.

"Listen, Ermal, I don't know why you think whoever you're looking for might be with me, but he isn't?"

 

 

For a moment, Ermal’s voice failed him, just shaky breathing to be audible, but then he swallowed, because there were still important things to talk about, questions to be asked, answers to be given.

"When have you last heard from him?"

"Please, I'm sorry, but I really don't know whom you're taking about."

"But.. but he's your friend. We've been in Lisbon all together"

"Lisbon? I've never in my life been in Portugal. Why would I go there? Especially with you and your friend?", Roberto didn’t sound offended, just confused, as if Ermal had just told him they had flown to the moon together.

"But we've been at Eurovision, we've all.. You've been there when we won Sanremo, you were..."

"Man, are you sure that you're alright? Have you got a fever or something?"

"No!", Ermal shouted, while secretly hoping that this might be the answer. That he’d wake up from a fever at some point, and the world still would be spinning on its axis as it should, not having turned into whatever confusing chaos torturing him this was.

"Listen, Ermal, I know we don't know each other, but I think you should check in with a doctor. I'm, well, I don’t quite know how to break this to you, but I'm pretty sure that I would know it if some mysterious friend of mine whose name is Fabrizio would have won Sanremo. Or if you had, for that matter."

At that, Ermal sat down at the floor, his back to the wall. He tried to ignore how fast his breathing was, how confused his thoughts still were, how anxious his heart still was beating. There was an explanation for this, there _had_ to be. He couldn't explain it to himself, why he couldn’t reach his friend, what had happened to his phone’s contacts, to Fabrizio’s Instagram page, why their friends were behaving like that, but there had to be a reason. A joke, a publicity stunt, anything that might explain itself later. Ermal even caught himself wishing that Fabrizio was angry at him, ignoring him on purpose, having told his friends to please join in on this - he couldn't think of a single reason why his friend might do that, but it at least would be an explanation, even if a weak one.

And if there was something like that going on, be it a joke or something born from anger, Ermal was pretty convinced that there was someone who wouldn't play along in this. He leaned against the wall, and with shaking fingers, typed Filippo's name into google. Nothing. A sigh, and Ermal rummaged through his brain, trying to remember where Fabrizio's brother worked, where he might reach him. But nothing. Romina it would be then. Her tattoo studio he actually did find, and it was hard to resist just calling the number written there. But no, Ermal decided against it - he needed to talk about this in person. It hadn't been often that he met Fabrizio's sister, but he had met her as a down to earth person, kind eyes she might share with her brother, an honest smile, and he couldn't imagine that faced with his desperation, she would play along with whatever this was. No, she would be honest with him. Romina would tell him where Fabrizio was, what had happened, and everything would be alright.

 

 

To Ermal, it seemed like years did pass until he finally stood in front of Romina's studio, and he stormed in there with his heart in his throat. In retrospective, he might have realized that he had been in no state to still drive his car, but thanks to an extra careful guardian angel, Ermal made it to Rome safely, not minding the lingering tears, the trembling, or the thoughts that just more and more developed into a hurricane of confusion and desperation.

He took a deep breath, another, and tried to fake at least a nearly neutral facial expression, also running a hand through his curls while staring at his own reflection in the mirroring window of Romina’s tattoo studio. His face looked sickly pale, his lower lip bitten bloody, which he hadn’t even realized happening during the drive, and from his eyes, a desperate sadness was shining.

"Romina?", Ermal called after walking through the door, faced with an empty studio.

And then, after a moment and a second call of her name, Romina did emerge from a door leading to the back of the place, her hair in a loose bun and her tattooed arms on display in her tank top, and there was a polite smile on her face. But then, the smile slipped, her lips formed a perfect O, and in her eyes, Ermal saw recognition setting in. He couldn't remember the last time he had been as relieved as when Romina smiled again, bright this time, and then called his name.

"Ermal? _Ermal Meta??_ "

"Oh thank God Romina, I'm so glad I found you here, you can't imagine what-", Ermal mumbled, but then stopped. Because Romina was talking, in a rather high-pitched voice.

"I can't believe that Ermal Meta is in my shop!"

"Romina. Please. I'm not in the mood for.. whatever this is. Please please _please_ don't pretend like you don't know me, and tell me where he is."

"Who?"

"Your brother", nothing more than a shaky exhale.

"Why would you want to- Hey, woa, please don't cry, it's gonna be alright, here, sit down."

Ermal sagged onto the chair Romina guided him to, and buried his face in his hands, as if to hide the tears from her.

" _Please"_

"Okay, I mean, I don't know how you two know each other, and I can't believe he's never mentioned it, but Filippo is visiting one of his friends in England, somewhere in the countryside, we also got problems reaching him there, but he'll be back by next week, and I'm sure then you can-"

"I'm not talking about Filippo", Ermal interrupted her, his hands slowly leaving his tear-struck face so he was able to look into her eyes.

 

 

Romina raised her eyebrows, confusion clouding her whole face, and hadn't Ermal's heart been so close to breaking from everything he didn't understand here, he'd have been amused about the familiarity of this expression.

"Please Romina, I'm looking for Fabrizio", he explained, and in that moment, something about the atmosphere in the room shifted.

Something nearly like shock, like terror, like _anger_ flickered through Romina's eyes, and hadn't Ermal been too emotionally compromised to be really attentive, he'd have noticed how she turned a shade paler at the mentioning of Fabrizio's name.

"What did you just say?", she finally asked, and Ermal was confused about her tone, about the pain sounding from somewhere between her whispered words.

Did he really do something to upset Fabrizio, that his sister would talk to him like that?

"I need to talk to Fabrizio; I don't know what's happening but I can't find him at Instagram and he's not answering my calls and he-"

"Leave”, and once again, Romina's voice was just a whisper, but this time it seemed to cut right through Ermal.

"Wha-"

"I said leave! Do you think this is _funny?!_ To just come in here and talk about- How do you even know- Go! I don't even wanna know what's going on in this brain of yours -do you think because you’re fucking famous you can just go around torturing people - I just want you to leave! Now, get out of my eyes, and don't you _dare_ to ever, ever mention-"

Romina started storming at him, a dangerous fire burning in her eyes, and, out of instinct, Ermal ducked away, and then ran out of the shop on heavily shaking legs. While he stumbled away from the little store, utterly lost with everything in the world, inside it, Romina dropped the book filled with tattoo sketches she had picked up to throw it at her seemingly oh so cruel famous surprise guest. It hit the floor with a dull noise, and the young woman broke down in tears.

 

 

Ermal was walking around while it started to get dark, Rome’s lights for once casting a nearly mocking, cold light at him, and he had no idea how long he had been doing this, concentrating on nothing but trying to keep his legs from giving out.

At some point, may it be half an hour after he had left Romina’s studio or may it be three, Ermal’s phone rang, and as confusing as their talk in the morning had been, as relieved was he now to hear Marco’s voice.

“Ermal? What happened? Are you _crying_?”

“No”, Ermal lied, sobs finally shaking his skinny frame.

“Jesus, what- Where are you? Just tell me, so I can pick you up.”

Ermal choked on a laugh. Oh, how he’d have loved to be picked up by Marco now, and how very well he knew that he couldn’t, not with how terribly far from home he had ended up, in his unsuccessful attempt to make sense of _anything_.

“I’m in Rome, you can’t just pick me up.”

“Yes I can. Because I am too, in Rome I mean. Just tell me a street, please?”

“How? Marco, what on earth, why are you in Rome? You haven’t been in the morning?”

“No, I haven’t. But that was before a certain phone call, and a message from you, saying you’d be going to Rome to see a Romina. And I don’t know who that is, but Ermal, I tried to message you, and you didn’t answer, and after this morning.. I just knew that something was wrong, and seemingly, it is indeed. So, please, I’m in Rome, just made it here, would you let me help you?”

“But.. Why? Why are you in Rome?”, Ermal asked, stopping in his steps.

“Because my best friend is sobbing on the phone and I couldn’t be more worried.”

 

 

Around an hour later, Marco had managed to navigate his car through Rome’s evening transport towards where Ermal had sat down at a park bench, his feelings nearly numb by now and his body beyond exhausted. Marco parked at the side of the road, not minding that he technically wasn’t allowed to stop there, and hurried his steps as soon as he spotted a certain sad mess of curls.

The day had been a terrible one for Ermal so far, but when he melted into Marco’s welcoming arms, a few of the thoughts attacking his brain quieted down, and he could feel himself relaxing.

“I’m glad you’re here”, Ermal whispered against Marco’s jacket smelling like cold smoke, and his friend held him a little tighter.

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind”, and saying it out loud only made the idea more scary to Ermal than it already was.

Marco held him tighter, a comforting hand starting to stroke through Ermal’s trembling curls.

“I’m sure you’re not. Whatever this is, we’re going to fix it, I’ll help you.”

“But, but Fabrizio somehow has.. vanished, and nothing feels right anymore.”

“We’re going to find your Fabrizio. I promise you that we will”, Marco said, while letting Ermal step out of the hug and placing a supporting arm around his shoulders.

Ermal let himself be guarded towards Marco’s car, and once he sat down and his friend turned the heating up and the music down, he suddenly became aware how terribly tired he was. But despite that, and the safeness that his friend’s company provided, Ermal couldn’t fall asleep. Because he kept thinking of Fabrizio, Fabrizio who somehow wasn’t reachable anymore, of the unexplainable behavior of his friends and sister, and of the scary emptiness that he felt. Being hopelessly in love with Fabrizio, that had been bad, it had felt as if it slowly was killing him, but _this_ , it was worse. Not hearing from the older man for a day, he already would have missed him quite gravely then, but being faced with this without even the hint of an explanation?

The world somehow had stopped to make sense, and while his eyes were fixed on the lights of Rome in front of the window, just a blur of white, yellow and, here or there, a bit of green and red, Ermal had no idea that when his fingers absentmindedly played with the ring shaped like a snake around his finger, this was the closest he had gotten to the riddle’s solution so far…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nice comments would make me incredibly happy ❤️


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